


to quieter places

by fableknot



Category: Soul Eaters - Eliza Crewe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 20:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11836803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fableknot/pseuds/fableknot
Summary: A monster catches a break.





	to quieter places

Meda Melange sagged into the couch of her trailer. That's right, the Crusaders had given her own trailer in their secluded mountain valley. She might have preferred something more glamorous to call home, but since the buildings were still under construction, it was either that or the woods.

Which wasn't all bad, she supposed. After spending the majority of the year on the run in cheap motels, she liked being able to stay in her own private place. Her surroundings almost left her with a sense of nostalgia, particularly of the days she spent pretending to be Beacon before she actually became one.

But enough about that. It had been a couple weeks since the Crusaders began rebuilding their newly fortified community, and Meda was _exhausted._

In fact, she was so exhausted that she hadn't noticed the knock on the window above her. When she did, however, she responded by burying her head deeper in the folds of her cushion, trying to tap into some hidden Demon-Crusader-Beacon-whatever ability that could wish things away with her mind. Obviously, it didn't work.

She groaned, pulling herself up to her knees, and pushed out the window. A handsome face with dark hair and black eyes greeted her. Not quite a man, not quite a demon. She settled for a pain in her ass.

"Good evening, _Mademoiselle_ Melange," he said sweetly, exaggerating the French accent beneath his words.

She arched a brow. "What do you want, Armand?"

"Does a husband need a reason to want to see his wife?"

When Meda merely replied with a look, he raised his palms up and amended, "Alright. I've come to bust you out."

Amusement touched her expression. "I'm not being kept prisoner anymore. I can leave whenever I want."

A sly smile slanted his lips. "I thought you would find my methods much more enjoyable."

She met his eyes and just like that, dozens of memories came rushing to the surface. Their hands clasped together in a cell. On the couch with rumpled blankets at his flat. Lying across the rooftop, reveling in the souls of their terrified victims. Fun times.

She leaned forward until he was only a hairsbreadth away. "Are we roleplaying? Is that what this is?"

His smile widened to a grin. "Think of me as a bad boy enticing a good girl to sneak out of the house."

She snorted. "Awfully cliché, don't you think? I thought you were done being bad." 

"Some habits are hard to break." The dark depths of his eyes were luring her in, sparkling with mischief... and challenge. What can she say? Even she had her weaknesses. "Come on," he said, probably in the same way he convinced others sell their soul. "If I recall, we hadn't yet had our honeymoon."

She smiled. "Well, I guess no marriage is complete without it."

—

Meda stepped back to admire her handiwork. The word "trailer" had been spray-painted on the newly-carved sign of the Mountain Park community. This time, she had given it a more fancier flourish and a color more befitting of its canvas.

"Perfect." She tossed the empty can in a nearby trash can, making a fist when it hit home.

Armand stroked his chin, studying the sign with a mock intensely. "It does give it a more personal touch."

She mimicked the sound a buzzer. "Wrong. The correct response was: What a masterpiece! I expected nothing less."

He bowed his head. "Forgive me, O Great Meda." He took a step closer to her, his hand winding over to the small of her back. "Perhaps," he continued as he inclined his head, "there is something I can do to make up for it."

She stared at his lips. An unmistakable heat unfurled into delicious flutters. "Perhaps," she murmured, "I'll take you up on that offer."

"Hey, you two! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

They broke away from each other, their eyes swiveling to the shaky beam of light in the distance. One of the guards was fast-approaching.

She looked over at Armand. "Betcha I'll make it back to the trailer first," she said, singsong-like.

Although the guard would never be able to catch up with two halflings, gunning straight for home would undoubtedly reveal who they were. Instead, they fled to the woods, skirting the trees and catapulting off boulders. A surge of adrenaline zipped through her veins.

They didn't stop until the light disappeared, collapsing together on the trailer's rooftop. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter, and when she looked over at Armand, his were as well. Their breaths come in fast, wispy clouds against the cool air. A smattering of stars awaited them here, unlike their stint in the city.

She knew her feelings for him. There was no denying what she felt after all that's happened. But the ferocity of it struck her hard. She remembered the moment of their wedding, when they were just two souls floating among the darkness and flames. The awe she had then filled her now.

He was apart of them, she realized. Just as much as Jo and Chi were. Even if their vows were annulled, or his glamour were stripped away, absolutely nothing about that would change.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Her eyes were considering before she answered, "That maybe this husband-and-wife thing could work out."

**Author's Note:**

> The ending of _Crossed_ was perfect, but I wish there had been one last scene between Meda and Armand. I hope I gave them justice. The title was inspired by a message which said, "To new things and quieter places." | This story was last updated on May 6, 2018.


End file.
